


The Consumption of Soul at Midnight

by kyungshio



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyungshio/pseuds/kyungshio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guan Yin gives Kyungsoo another chance at life and love in the form of Agent Kim Jongin</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consumption of Soul at Midnight

Seoul is damp and the earthy smell lingers in the air as a dark figure takes long strides without a sound. A full moon rides above him as he traverses the streets of Jongno. The hour is late; the landscape littered with lights from the buildings. People are swarming from every direction, umbrellas in one hand and the other, gripping on their expensive scarves for warmth. A woman bumps against his shoulders and continues walking with her phone pressed on her ear. “Excuse you,” she grumbles—typical city girl. 

Ah, Jongno District; the center of the city for 600 years. It was where the Joseon dynasty established its capital city-- the face and heart of Korea. Kyungsoo knows these things. He passes by a newspaper stand and spares a glance at the papers. He sees a mixture of bold red and black letters which reads: “More SK firms seen tapping equity market in H2,” a few “Pontiff to meet still aggrieved Sewol families,” and some “10 dead in Mapo suburban massacre.”

A lot of people are walking despite the slightly freezing weather. Most are Chinese, but the crowd is a hodgepodge of people from various countries. From afar, he sees a group of Filipino teenagers taking pictures behind Gwanghwamun. He can tell that they are from the Philippines because he had lived there for years prior to coming back to Korea. A burst of chilly wind causes the kids to cling tighter to their jackets. They are probably freezing from not being used to the cold weather. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, does not mind the cold; it does nothing but slows him down. He does not like it but he deals with it.

When he was only a couple of years young, Gyeongbokgung was his most favourite historical structure in Korea. Back then, he would run his hands across the walls and he could feel the echo of the rich history of the palace—even the cries of those who have suffered when they were razed together with most of what was left of Gyeongbokgung. Nowadays, walking along the hallways of the palace does not feel the same as it had been a few years ago. It really was unfortunate what the Imperial Japan had done to his favorite place and he hates it. Kyungsoo forgives but he never forgets. A lot of people end up in misery from forgetting the things that they should have imprinted on their minds in order for them to never commit the same mistakes again.

He turns into a filth-strewn alley and walks further— away from the tourists. He does not want to be here where he is surrounded by thousands of people. Besides, it took 2.8 billion won for the restoration of the palace. The edifice has few cracks on the anterior though, Kyungsoo notes.

A seemingly helpless man with silky black hair and equally magnetic black eyes is sure to attract attention when he is walking in the wrong part of Seoul. Three young males wait for him a couple of meters down the street. Two are lean and tall while the other is stumpy. The one wearing the jacket is definitely the leader. The smell of gunpowder tells him that he has a gun under his worn-out leather coat. The other two only have baseball bats, practically unarmed. Kyungsoo chuckles. The three of them jog towards Kyungsoo and encircle him. The leader smiles at him.

“Nice jacket,” the leader says. Kyungsoo can smell liquor and nicotine from his breath. Oh, and amphetamine. His eyes are both yellow and red-rimmed and there are dark circles under. At this rate, he will only live for a few more years. Good. At least this won’t be too difficult. Kyungsoo is pretty impatient.

“Thank you. It’s a Kai-aakmann limited edition.” Kyungsoo knows that he looks good in his black jacket, black shoes, and black cap. He looks good in black; he loves it as much as he loves the color red. 

“What’s your name?” the stumpy one asks coolly.

“D.O. Yours?”

“Byunghee.” He is lying. Kyungsoo considers how this will end. A dot of red light is blinking ten meters above them; he will have to get rid of that first.

“See, uh, D.O., is it?” the leader says with a smirk. Kyungsoo lifts his eyebrows in response. “I want us to be friends. Now, why don’t we start by you giving us your jacket and maybe a couple of cash?” He puts a hand on Kyungsoo’s left shoulder and reveals the gun under his coat. “Just to have a few beers and some cigarettes, you know?” The other two snicker. They think Kyungsoo is surprised.

“That’s a pity. It’s pretty cold tonight and I think I’m going to need it. I’m afraid you can’t have my coat,” Kyungsoo replies impassively.

Tall guy speaks up and takes a step towards Kyungsoo. “I don’t think you’d want us to force it out of you. It would be such a waste to hurt your pretty face.” Fat guy smiles behind him. They think Kyungsoo is afraid. He is never afraid; never have been in a long, long time.

“We can’t be friends if you won’t give us what we want.” Byunghee nods repeatedly in feigned disappointment.

“I don’t want to be friends, Byunghee.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” Kyungsoo looks at him in the eye. The leader feels the heat building up and he flinches. He wilts under the gaze. He doesn’t understand why this small man is suddenly intimidating. Byunghee pulls out the gun and points it to Kyungsoo’s head. 

“You’re making me really angry, D.O.” Byunghee brutally presses the gun against Kyungsoo’s temple. He is mad. The redness of his face shows so.

“You’re making me angry,” Kyungsoo says, allowing the fullness of his voice to resonate. The deepness of his voice has the effect on Byunghee that he intended as he and the other two behind Kyungsoo shake visibly.

“I am Satan’s spawn,” Kyungsoo says softly, barely a whisper and steps towards him. He is lying. Of course he is not the devil’s offspring. Kyungsoo scowls at the flash of unwanted memories. “You’ve pissed me off. And this will not end well on your part.”

The gun falls from Byunghee’s grip and clatters to the ground pitifully. “Are you sure you won’t be needing that? Because I will kill all three of you tonight.” He catches the faint acrid smell of urine from behind, probably from the chubby one. They take a step back at the same time.

“I’m hungry now.”

Kyungsoo smiles.

“Run.”

They believe him. He is much too fast, but he sees everything in slow motion. Thousands of years of existence allowed him to develop his senses. He jumps back with so much force that the concrete cracks as he launches himself behind the pole where the camera is installed. He cannot risk anybody knowing him. He crushes the small device in one hand and somersaults in the air, aiming for tall guy. Senses switching into hyper-accelerated mode, Kyungsoo lashes his right foot and the heel catches the man in the neck. He sees ligaments snap one by one and blood paints the land dark red as his head rolls uselessly towards chubby. He is next.

He tries to run away but he is too slow. Much too slow. Kyungsoo leaps forward and grabs him from the back of his head. Kyungsoo hears his skull crack in many places even before the cranium hits the earth. Even more blood splatters and chubby guy sags lifelessly in his arms. Kyungsoo drops him. He does not eat from trash.

He turns his head slowly into Byunghee who is on his knees, trembling and crying and praying. Suddenly, every monster he has been told as a child comes true. In front of him is the monster under his bed; the bogeyman hiding in his closet. Kyungsoo can hear the thunderous beating of Byunghee’s heart. He is going to wet his pants soon. In a fraction of a second, Kyungsoo is behind him with Byunghee’s gun.

“Do I make you nervous, Byunghee?”

“Please don’t kill me,” he pleads. “J-jesus, please.” 

“I haven’t met Jesus Christ, unfortunately for you. If you had prayed to a different god that I have met then I might have reconsidered how things are going to end for you.” Kyungsoo smiles wickedly. Byunghee only whimpers pathetically in response.

“You told me we are friends. Don’t you want Little Kyungsoo to have his dinner tonight?” Kyungsoo caresses the man behind his ears with the gun. Kyungsoo is bluffing albeit he considers feeding as it will be a long night for him. It makes Byunghee shiver which effectively makes him pee in fear.

“P-please,” Byunghee cries, snot flowing down his nose. “I- I have a son.” He is lying, Kyungsoo can tell. Of course he would be; man’s primal instincts come out when their lives are threatened.

Kyungsoo hears footsteps in the distance. No, not footsteps. They’re jumping from roof to roof. Two. Three. Four. The number keeps growing until he stops at seven. Great. They are here. The smell of blood must have lured them out of their hiding and signalled them of his coming.

“I-I beg you! I don’t want to die yet!”

Kyungsoo raises the gun and points it upward to Byunghee’s chin. “Then you should have never been born.”

The sound of bullet crushing through Byunghee’s mandible reverberates through the night. He discards the lifeless body together with his gun beside tall guy’s head. He doesn’t need any distraction from what is going to happen.

He listens for any indication of where the sounds are going. They are leading him away. Kyungsoo leaps through the air and takes a whiff of the wind. Ah, that faint foul yet sweet scent of snake venom—the distinct fragrance of his kind. They are sprinting in packs— the odor of poison palpable in the air. Kyungsoo concludes they are newborns. He grimaces at that newfound fact.

They are dashing from roof to roof— all seven quarter miles away from him yet they know that Kyungsoo is more than perfectly able to them. Who told them? How do they know about his power? Who made them?

Disturbing questions, indeed.

His herd of prey arrives at a familiar place. It is dark and the late hour is his friend. Kyungsoo recognizes the place as the Seoul Olympic Stadium. The gates are still intact. Of course. Kyungsoo jumps over and lands perfectly on a grassy field. The smell of moisture from the light rain overwhelms his senses until he catches a whiff of all seven from all directions. They have surrounded him.

The moon hangs like a brilliant orb unfettered by clouds. Kyungsoo sees them without the need for light. Beneath the silver rays, he watches their expression--panic in the guise of confidence." They should be. He observes his surroundings. The clock says it is 2:05 AM. A pile of metal discs is in front of him and a thousand yards to its right is a stack of javelins. He calculates their positions. Kyungsoo raises a foot and he can already hear someone’s leg muscles tighten. If he is preparing to flee or to kill him, Kyungsoo doesn’t know. But he will make sure he kills him first before that happens. He steps forward and reveals a knife hidden inside his boots. He twirls it around and a whistle of a flying blade is heard as it strikes the one on his left to his head, right between his eyes.

“We can talk. But I am prepared to fight.” Someone strides forward.

“I want to know who your creator is,” Kyungsoo says.

Laughter fills the stadium and Kyungsoo cringes.

“No talking will be done here, unfortunately.”

Kyungsoo smiles excitedly. He supposes he can have some fun tonight then. “Ah, I suppose I’m going to have to force you to talk.” 

It is six against one now and the odds are not in their favor. Kyungsoo does not believe in the expression “impatience of the youth.” The older he gets, the more impatient he becomes. He has witnessed many-a-lifetime to justify his impatience and he does not need to spend another minute trying to ask for information about their creator.

In a movement far too fast for a mortal eye to witness, Kyungsoo lunges forward and launches another dagger to his front. He underestimated the distance between Kyungsoo and him and before he can even move, the tip catches him on the right chest and impales him on his heart. Kyungsoo grabs two metal discs and flings them to the two on his side. A disc hits one and buries itself into his stomach while the other misses its target. Kyungsoo does not like it when he misses his mark.

Two newborns are airborne and Kyungsoo runs to the javelins. But it is too late when he hears the incoming dagger. Kyungsoo dodges to his right but the blade catches him in his arm socket. They grab Kyungsoo in an attempt to yank off his arms-- a mistake. Kyungsoo pulls the blade off of him and stabs one firmly to his mouth, twists the blade upward, and slices his face into two. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo holds the other one by his neck and squeezes it until the head detaches itself from the body. He can hear everything— all the blood and artery in that neck explode.

Five down, two to go. He recognizes the guy who was prepared to flee a while ago. So, he goes after the one who does not want to talk. In no less than three seconds, Kyungsoo has his prey’s innards on his hands and throws it to the other newborn’s feet. Kyungsoo pounces on him and straddles him, holding his hands with one hand while the other buries itself lightly on the younger’s neck. This one looks like a harmless teenager. Long face, sharp eyes, small red lips. It is always easier to go for the cowards.

“Tell me who your creator is.” Kyungsoo adds pressure to the collarbones. He needs to know which of the two is creating more. The face of a very familiar man comes into Kyungsoo’s mind.

“Why?” He spits at his face. “Are you scared? You gonna wet your pants?” He laughs hollowly. He can laugh all he wants, but he can see the fear in his eyes, Kyungsoo thinks.

“You’re funny.” Kyungsoo tightens his hold on the other’s neck. “But, I’m getting really impatient, you know. Tell me who your creator is.” A few arteries explode from the immense force of his grip.

“Go to hell!” the younger manages to cry in pain.

“I’ve been there,” Kyungsoo says. “Nice place Satan’s got. We had sex once, it was delightful,” he says through gritted teeth. He is only half lying. “Now, will you tell me the name of your creator, please.” His tone is mocking. Kyungsoo runs his nail across the other’s neck and stops on the side. Contrary to popular belief, their skin is not as hard as the stones described in the books. Their skin is a lot tougher than a human’s. Bullet can penetrate through them but they heal fast. He finds what he is looking for and slashes it, stopping just a millimeter before hitting the particular artery and black blood gushes out. Kyungsoo feels muscles tense from the body below him.

“One,” Kyungsoo counts.

“Two,” he continues, voice playful.

“Th--“

“I don’t know! I don’t know my master’s name okay!” he shouts. He is telling the truth.

“Good. You are cooperative. Your creator did not tell you his name?”

“No. You’re so sure it’s a he.” Kyungsoo rips a muscle. He does not want his prey to become too comfortable.

“What does he look like?”

“Copper eyes,” he confirms. “Doe-like and blonde.”

Lu Han.

Kyungsoo does not know whether he should be happy or disturbed with the newfound information. At the back of his mind, he expected a different person who is behind all these killings. He nods in contemplation.

“Thank you for being very accommodating,” Kyungsoo says and aims for the man’s chest. The sound of pained screams fill the night as Kyungsoo’s nails sink in first and then his whole hand inside as he grabs for the heart. The body is both tender and stiff beneath him and Kyungsoo holds the organ above his head, squeezes it, and gulps on the flowing black blood. He deserves to feed a bit.

The wound on his right shoulder begins to close and Kyungsoo stands up with a sigh. The clock ahead them reads 2:07 AM.

“I must be getting old,” he grumbles.  
\--

Kyungsoo goes around the carcass of the seven, stomps on their faces and chest, and pulls out his knives off of the corpses, effectively making the bodies unidentifiable. He has to make sure that none of them lives. A deep wound in the heart should kill them but their kind heals rapidly. Kyungsoo should know. He had suffered an injury from a stake buried in his chest once during the Middle Age when people thought that he lured young women and bathed in their blood. It was a nasty wound and it took a few months and a lot of victims before he finally regained his strength.

Police sirens wail from a little less of a quarter mile away from the arena. Somebody must have alerted them with the suspicious darkness in the stadium since lights are always kept open every single night after all. He examines the blood stains all over his clothes and dashes for the locker rooms. In a span of a few seconds, he is stark naked from head to toe.

He does not mind being naked. He takes pride in his body albeit his shoulders are way too narrow for his liking. But his body is packed with lean muscles— appropriate enough to hide his massive strength behind his seemingly childish stature.

Kyungsoo scrubs every inch of his body until his skin feels raw. Grabbing for his clothes, he washes them with bleach that he acquired from the janitor’s stock room. He can still see blood streaks though magnified vision but he deems it enough. A human being would never be able to see and smell the blood in his shirt and pants. He wrings them with force not powerful enough to destroy his clothes. This is the reason why he invests with designer brands: they always come in handy in combat plus, it does not hurt to look remarkable when killing people.

Three police cars have arrived in the stadium— two in front of the gates and one at the back exit. Kyungsoo goes for the back. Leaping across the seats, he starts walking slowly when he feels the presence of two people getting near. He is going to have to turn his act on to avoid arousing any suspicions.

“Don’t move!” the young man shouts while holding a gun aimed straight at Kyungsoo. He is good-looking and his uniform is damp both from the rain and from the sweat of running around the stadium. He also looks naive—probably a rookie, Kyungsoo notes. This should be easy. “Put your hands above your head!”

Kyungsoo obediently follows the cop’s instructions, widens his already huge eyes, and quivers his lips to match his helpless appearance. He needs to look harmless even if he thinks it makes him feel stupid. The other man ushers Kyungsoo to march to a group of policemen who have successfully barricaded the entrance with yellow tapes. More policemen are going to arrive soon so he has to settle this quickly. 

Two guns are aimed at Kyungsoo as he is escorted to an older man who he deduces is their superior is speaking with another policeman. No, this man is from the NIS. The man has his back turned to Kyungsoo and they are talking about how the bodies were grotesquely butchered and scattered all over the stadium. The agent who has rounded cheeks, sharp eyes, and gummy teeth asks the other whether it was a gang who perhaps did the horrendous killings. Kyungsoo can only smile. He is free from the suspicions. Who would think that a young man like him could do all of this, after all? He reverts to a scared expression and continues to walk slowly, making a show of dragging his right foot to show that he is hurt.

“Sir, we found him on the perimeter,” the police with an angular face calls out. The two policemen turn to him and Kyungsoo is not prepared when he sees the face of the other man.

Zhong Ren.

No. It is not him. This man is about the same height as that person, the one in front of him is much darker; his expression, a lot firmer. It is not an entirely different face but he can still see traces of that man’s face on this young cop. He has the same eyes as him.

Kyungsoo manages to control his face the entire time that he is staring at the other. He needs to get a grip on reality otherwise, he might end up frying the man’s brain. Kyungsoo has done it countless times before. Once, he stared at a flower for too long that it turned into ash in under a minute. He needs to see this person again after tonight and Kyungsoo is going to make sure of that.

“What are you doing here, young man?” chubby cheeks breaks his stupor.

“Sir,” he starts, lips quivering for effect. “I’m new to the neighbourhood so, I wandered for a bit but I somehow got lost in some alley. Some men tried to rob my money then, it started raining so, I immediately ran away without looking where I was going. I ended up spraining my right foot,” he says in a small voice. “Please help me,” he adds, right hand clutching his left elbow adding to his show of shrinking himself as much as possible. He has to look harmless even if he is nothing but.

“May I have your ID, please?” chubby cheeks tells him. Kyungsoo takes a look at the ID pinned on his chest. Senior Police Officer Kim Minseok. Kyungsoo jams his hand on his pocket and takes out a card from his wallet. He just recently had it done, courtesy of his assistant. His men do not pry and that is why Kyungsoo trusts the people around him. He was the one who chose them and he would know right away if someone is hiding something from him. Besides, they are paid handsomely to keep their trap shut.

“I see, Mister Do. I’m sorry but we’re going to have to search you for a weapon. Kim?” chubby cheeks calls the attention of the tanned man. Agent Kim Jongin is what the ID on the man’s chest says. The man walks towards him and goes for the pockets of his jackets first and his jeans next. He has dexterous hands, Kyungsoo remarks. He adds that list to one of the many similar things that this man has with Zhong Ren.

“Clear of weapon, Sir,” the man calls out to the other. Kim Jongin then turns to Kyungsoo. “It’s not usually dangerous in this area but it’s best for you to walk when the sun’s still out. I’m sure you’ve watched the news.” Kim Minseok hands him back his ID.

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Kyungsoo declares, trying to sound confused. It is best to detach himself from the killings as much as possible. He specifically returned to Seoul upon hearing the news of different slaughters every single night. He had a hunch that it was his kind who did the murders and he got the information he needed tonight. But there should have been none of their kind anymore. There were only three of them left since that day. Kyungsoo shivers at the thought. “I just moved here a week ago so I haven’t unpacked my things yet. May I ask what happened here?” he asks with feigned innocence. He is lying, of course. Kyungsoo had single-handedly arranged everything in his house the day he moved there. Angular face answers for him and Kyungsoo identifies him as Kim Jongdae.

“We found six people brutally killed inside,” the man says, cocking his head to the direction of several police officers a few meters away. “Head smashed. Hearts carved out. Limbs--“ Kim Minseok fakes a cough and stops the other.

“Let’s not give out any information on this, shall we? Mister Do’s got enough scare for one night,” the officer throws him a pity look and Kyungsoo wants this act to end. Kim Minseok is a gentle person, Kyungsoo decides, but he does not like being thrown sympathizing looks at him. “Kim, please escort Mister Do out of here. Make sure he gets home safely.” Kim Jongin bows to his superior and Kyungsoo sees the subtle looks they throw at each other.

“Where to?”

“I live in Gangnam,” Kyungsoo replies. 

They walk briskly out of the fields with Kyungsoo still faking his and Kyungsoo tunes all of his senses to the man beside him. A trick of fate, perhaps? A consolation for a life lived for too long? He is confused with the sudden inclusion of Kim Jongin in his mission. Why, Guan Yin? The man must have noticed his silence and mistakes it as being in pain from walking.

“Does your foot still hurt?”

“A little.” Kyungsoo shoots him a small grin.

“Here,” Kim Jongin says before sliding an arm around the other’s back and leading Kyungsoo to start walking again. The man feels warm and Kyungsoo leans to the heat. A little flirting would not hurt. “You didn’t bring a car, did you?” Kyungsoo detects doubt in his voice. Kim Jongin shoves his other hand on his pocket and he hears a tiny click. His answers are being recorded and he is still being questioned. He should have known that he is not getting off the hook easily. Of course, the police are being very careful with the numerous killings that had happened for the past few weeks. Even the NIS is involved in this.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo starts. “And no, I didn’t bring my car. As I’ve said earlier, I was only walking around the city. I’m new here, you see. I lived in the Philippines prior to coming here.” He is going to be investigated soon so he might as well offer them the information that they need. He hated living in the Philippines. It was too warm, too sunny and Kyungsoo did not like living there. He had been slightly more adventurous these past few years in picking out where he should live next, but staying in a tropical country proved to be a challenge for him. It is not that he could not go outside when it is daytime, but more like he feels sleepy when the sun is out. When he was still a couple of years old, the sun was a lot harsher to him, leaving his body weak. His ability of immunity against the sun only came to him after a few decades of existence.

“Oh? I thought you were Japanese,” the man replies and Kyungsoo tenses visibly.

“Really?” Kyungsoo reacts accordingly. “What made you think so?” he says, purposely leaving out the piece of information on his race. He cannot share that data to the police just yet.

“Your accent? I thought I heard a Japanese accent, too,” the man tells him. Kyungsoo quirks his eyebrow at the policeman’s observation. He is impressed. Too rare a people can detect the many different accents he has picked up from living in countless countries.

“I lived in Japan for quite some time,” Kyungsoo shares. He had lived there for five decades before he decided that Japan is starting to get smaller for him. “I travel a lot.”

“Is that so?” Kim Jongin nods, taking in the information. 

They arrive at the taxi station and Kyungsoo removes himself from the other’s arms. He hears another click when the man subtly puts his hand on his pocket as he removes his police jacket. The recording has already stopped. The man places the jacket on Kyungsoo’s shoulders and he would have been touched if this was not a ploy to pry more information about him in the future. A taxi stops in front of them and Kyungsoo turns to the man, palms out.

“Your phone,” Kyungsoo beams at him.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m on duty.”

Kyungsoo smiles wider. “I need to contact you for when and where I can return your jacket.” Kim Jongin feigns a smile at him as he types his number on Kyungsoo’s phone instead. “Thank you.” 

Kyungsoo is going to have to make a call soon, he thinks as he is lying on his bed. He also expects several agents on his house to visit and investigate him on his possible involvement in the deaths in the stadium tonight. He has returned some of the pieces of furniture into their boxes a little earlier and he is exhausted from his mission, and complying to everything he had said a while ago to the police. Kim Jongin. He knows him— recognizes him— deep in his soul. But the question is, why now?

Why, Guan Yin?

Kyungsoo falls into a fitful sleep and for the first time in centuries, he dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by (my childhood hero) Christopher Pike and his series, TLV. 
> 
> I started writing this early January 2015 for my friend Amy, also known as thisismylastlie but I had been so busy with thesis, then I had been busy with work, and now, I'm busy looking for a new job.
> 
> This is only the first part of the entire fic and I hope to finish this soon. Enjoy!


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